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Heart Of My Heart
Here where the season turns the land to gold,Among the fields our feet have known of old,When we were children who would laugh and run,Glad little playmates of the wind and sun,Before came toil and care and years went ill,And one forgot and one remembered still;Heart of my heart, among the old fields here,Give me your hands and let me draw you near,Heart of my heart.Stars are not truer than your soul is trueWhat need I more of heaven then than you?Flowers are not sweeter than your face is sweetWhat need I more to make my world complete?O woman nature, love that still endures,What strength has ours that is not born of yours?Heart of my heart, to you, whatever come,To you the lead, whose love hath led me home.Heart of my heart.
Madison Julius Cawein
Hugo's "Flower To Butterfly"
Sweet, bide with me and let my loveBe an enduring tether;Oh, wanton not from spot to spot,But let us dwell together.You've come each morn to sip the sweetsWith which you found me dripping,Yet never knew it was not dewBut tears that you were sipping.You gambol over honey meadsWhere siren bees are humming;But mine the fate to watch and waitFor my beloved's coming.The sunshine that delights you nowShall fade to darkness gloomy;You should not fear if, biding here,You nestled closer to me.So rest you, love, and be my love,That my enraptured bloomingMay fill your sight with tender light,Your wings with sweet perfuming.Or, if you will not bide with meUpon this quiet heather,Oh, give me ...
Eugene Field
So Fair, So Sweet, Withal So Sensitive
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,Would that the little Flowers were born to live,Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;That to this mountain-daisy's self were knownThe beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrownOn the smooth surface of this naked stone!And what if hence a bold desire should mountHigh as the Sun, that he could take accountOf all that issues from his glorious fount!So might he ken how by his sovereign aidThese delicate companionships are made;And how he rules the pomp of light and shade;And were the Sister-power that shines by nightSo privileged, what a countenance of delightWould through the clouds break forth on human sight!Fond fancies! wheresoe'er shall turn thine eyeOn earth, air, oc...
William Wordsworth
To Rhea
Thee, dear friend, a brother soothes,Not with flatteries, but truths,Which tarnish not, but purifyTo light which dims the morning's eye.I have come from the spring-woods,From the fragrant solitudes;--Listen what the poplar-treeAnd murmuring waters counselled me.If with love thy heart has burned;If thy love is unreturned;Hide thy grief within thy breast,Though it tear thee unexpressed;For when love has once departedFrom the eyes of the false-hearted,And one by one has torn off quiteThe bandages of purple light;Though thou wert the loveliestForm the soul had ever dressed,Thou shalt seem, in each reply,A vixen to his altered eye;Thy softest pleadings seem too bold,Thy praying lute will seem to scold;Though...
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Lovers
They sit within a woodland place, Trellised with rustling light and shade;So like a spirit is her face That he is half afraid To speak - lest she should fade.Mysterious, beneath the boughs, Like two enchanted shapes, they are,Whom Love hath builded them a house Of little leaf and star, And the brown evening jar.So lovely and so strange a thing Each is to each to look upon,They dare not hearken a bird sing, Or from the other one Take eyes - lest they be gone.So still - the watching woodland peers And pecks about them, butterfliesLight on her hand - a flower; eve hears Two questions, two replies - O love that never dies!
Richard Le Gallienne
Young Love X - Love's Poor
Yea, love, I know, and I would have it thus,I know that not for usIs springtide Passion with his fire and flowers,I know this love of oursLives not, nor yet may live,By the dear food that lips and hands can give.Not, Love, that we in some high dream despiseThe common lover's common Paradise;Ah, God, if Thou and IBut one short hour their blessedness might try,How could we poor ones teachThose happy ones who half forget them rich:For if we thus endure,'Tis only, love, because we are so poor.
Love And Reason.
Quand l'homme commence à raissonner, il cesse de sentir.--J. J. ROUSSEAU.'Twas in the summer time so sweet, When hearts and flowers are both in season,That--who, of all the world, should meet, One early dawn, but Love and Reason!Love told his dream of yesternight, While Reason talked about the weather;The morn, in sooth, was fair and bright, And on they took their way together.The boy in many a gambol flew, While Reason, like a Juno, stalked,And from her portly figure threw A lengthened shadow, as she walked.No wonder Love, as on they past, Should find that sunny morning chill,For still the shadow Reason castFell o'er the boy, and cooled him still.In vain...
Thomas Moore
Confession
Once, once only, sweet and lovable woman,you leant your smooth arm on mine(that memory has never faded a momentfrom the shadowy depths of my mind):it was late: the full moon spread its lightlike a freshly minted disc,and like a river, the solemnity of nightflowed over sleeping Paris.Along the houses, under carriage gates,cats crept past furtively,ears pricked, or else like familiar shades,accompanied us slowly.Suddenly, in our easy intimacy,that flower of the pale light,from you, rich, sonorous instrument, eternallyquivering gaily, bright,from you, clear and joyous as a fanfarein the glittering dawna strange, plaintive sigh escapeda faltering toneas from some st...
Charles Baudelaire
To Lina.
Should these songs, love, as they fleet,Chance again to reach thy hand,At the piano take thy seat,Where thy friend was wont to stand!Sweep with finger bold the string,Then the book one moment see:But read not! do nought but sing!And each page thine own will be!Ah, what grief the song impartsWith its letters, black on white,That, when breath'd by thee, our heartsNow can break and now delight!
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Pignus Amoris. [1]
1As by the fix'd decrees of Heaven,'Tis vain to hope that Joy can last;The dearest boon that Life has given,To me is - visions of the past.2.For these this toy of blushing hueI prize with zeal before unknown,It tells me of a Friend I knew,Who loved me for myself alone.3.It tells me what how few can sayThough all the social tie commend;Recorded in my heart 'twill lay, [2]It tells me mine was once a Friend.4.Through many a weary day gone by,With time the gift is dearer grown;And still I view in Memory's eyeThat teardrop sparkle through my own.5.And heartless Age perhaps will smile,Or wonder whence those feelings sprung;
George Gordon Byron
To-Morrow.
But one short night between my Love and me! I watch the soft-shod dusk creep wistfully Through the slow-moving curtains, pausing byAnd shrouding with its spirit-fingers free Each well-known chair. There is a growing grace Of tender magic in this little place.Comes through half-opened windows, soft and cool As Spring's young breath, the vagrant evening air, My day-worn soul is hushed. I fain would bearNo burdens on my brain to-night, no rule Of anxious thought; the world has had my tears, My thoughts, my hopes, my aims these many years;This is Thy hour, and I shall sink to sleep With a glad weariness, to know that when The new day dawns I shall lay by my penNeeded no more. If I, perchance, should weep ...
Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley
Fare Thee Well, O Love Of Woman!
Fare thee well, O Love of Woman!Lip of Beauty, fare thee well!Thy soft heart, divinely human,Holds me by a magic spell.All that grieves me now to perishIs the loss of one bright eye,And I still the vision cherishWhile I lay me down to die.At my headstone, kindly kneeling,May I beg a votive tear?Woman, with her pure appealing,Is my angel at the bier.Let me have but one such linger,Praying Christ to help and save,Let me have but one dear fingerPlace a chaplet on my grave.Though the soldier dies in dying,The true lover never dies;Upward, from his embers flying,He transfigures in the skies.Heaven is rare, but Love is rarer,Whether it be blest or crost;Heaven blooms fair, but Love blooms fairer,B...
A. H. Laidlaw
The Exchange.
The stones in the streamlet I make my bright pillow,And open my arms to the swift-rolling billow,That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast.Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing;A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,And so by a twofold enjoyment I'm blest.And yet thou art trailing in sorrow and sadnessThe moments that life, as it flies, gave for gladness,Because by thy love thou'rt remember'd no more!Oh, call back to mind former days and their blisses!The lips of the second will give as sweet kissesAs any the lips of the first gave before!
The Law
The tide of love swells in me with such force, It sweeps away all hate and all distrust.As eddying straws and particles of dust Are lost by some swift river in its course.So much I love my friends, my life, my art, Each shadow flies; the light dispels the gloom.Love is so fair, I find I have no room For anything less worthy in my heart.Love is a germ which we can cultivate - To grace and perfume sweeter than the rose,Or leave neglected while our heart soil grows Rank with that vile and poison thistle, hate.Love is a joyous thrush, that one can teach To sing sweet lute-like songs which all may hear.Or we can silence him and tune the ear To caw of crows, or to the vulture's screech.Love is a feast; ...
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I Do Not Love Thee For That Fair
I do not love thee for that fairRich fan of thy most curious hair;Though the wires thereof be drawnFiner than threads of lawn,And are softer than the leavesOn which the subtle spider weaves.I do not love thee for those flowersGrowing on thy cheeks, loves bowers;Though such cunning them hath spread,None can paint them white and red:Loves golden arrows thence are shot,Yet for them I love thee not.I do not love thee for those softRed coral lips Ive kissed so oft,Nor teeth of pearl, the double guardTo speech whence music still is heard;Though from those lips a kiss being takenMighty tyrants melt, and death awaken.I do not love thee, O my fairest,For that richest, for that rarestSilver pillar, which stand...
Thomas Carew
Mother's Treasures.
Two little children sit by my side, I call them Lily and Daffodil;I gaze on them with a mother's pride, One is Edna, the other is Will.Both have eyes of starry light, And laughing lips o'er teeth of pearl.I would not change for a diadem My noble boy and darling girl.To-night my heart o'erflows with joy; I hold them as a sacred trust;I fain would hide them in my heart, Safe from tarnish of moth and rust.What should I ask for my dear boy? The richest gifts of wealth or fame?What for my girl? A loving heart And a fair and a spotless name?What for my boy? That he should stand A pillar of strength to the state?What for my girl? That she should be The friend of the poor and desol...
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
From Hafiz
I said to heaven that glowed above,O hide yon sun-filled zone,Hide all the stars you boast;For, in the world of loveAnd estimation true,The heaped-up harvest of the moonIs worth one barley-corn at most,The Pleiads' sheaf but two.If my darling should depart,And search the skies for prouder friends,God forbid my angry heartIn other love should seek amends.When the blue horizon's hoopMe a little pinches here,Instant to my grave I stoop,And go find thee in the sphere.
When Cold In The Earth.
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then;Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed, Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again.And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam,Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness and guided him home.From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true love to adore,To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to before.O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea;And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On h...